


Feather of Lead

by OhHolyHell



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: All Alex needed was someone to notice him, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can't be doing sad endings no thank you, Could have been Justin, M/M, That someone, with some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhHolyHell/pseuds/OhHolyHell
Summary: What if? What if Justin had come over the night that Alex was going to kill himself?





	Feather of Lead

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, yes I screwed with some timings, and other things... like actual canon facts... but please forgive me, I was trying my hardest, I claim artistic lisence! :D
> 
> Also I hope that the constantly changing perspectives doesn't confuse you, but it definitely works better this way. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Justin can already feel the bruises forming on his throat as he leaves Jess, wiping furiously at his eyes. Everything hurts and Justin just wants to curl up into a ball and cry, sleep, or die. He hasn't made up his mind yet.

So Justin does what Justin does best, compartmentalises his grief, fear and pain, and tries to think up a game plan. _Basketball, Foley, make your life like a game of basketball_ , he tells himself. This, he can do, shut feelings out, bring out the jock in him.

He doesn't give into the immediate urge to just crawl back to Bryce, tail between his legs, asking for his friend back- and a place to live. Justin decides that, yeah he's done some shit- he has really done some horrendous shit in his time- but he might as well start having standards at some point and, for some reason now is the time.

The only problem with magicking up some standards is that now Justin has run out of people to call, no Bryce, obviously no Jess, Zach's great and all but they're not extremely close anymore and Zach is a weird kind of nice that puts Justin on edge, he's not going to call Montgomery because they've never been that tight and, besides, Monty's a _dick_.

It's getting darker now, night wrapping its cold arms around Crestmont and Justin is made keenly aware that he needs to make a decision. And quickly. The list of recently called numbers on Justin's phone is bare and devoid of anyone he'd call a friend but one name catches his eye. 

Justin bites his lip as he ponders, can he really do this to the kid again?

&

There's a deliberate set to Alex's jaw as he tidies up, cleans the house, packs his untouched dinner into the fridge. He feels a bit bad about doing this when his parents are both away and his brother is nowhere to be found, even just for the fact that he doesn't particularly want to be lying, dead, in his bedroom all on his own for days. 

But it has to be done. The pain, physical and mental, is blurring and melding, crescendoing into one intrinsic ache and there is not a single thing that Alex can find himself caring enough about to stay with it. 

He wonders if this is how Hannah felt, to a degree, in her last hours, numb and uncaring, broken and defeated, but with a hint, just a tiny, desperate bit of hope for that one thing that might bring her back from the edge where she teetered. He hopes that the jumping off of the edge will be easier then this terrifying limbo he's stuck in.

It is almost laughably easy to locate and procure his dad's gun from the cabinet he 'hides' it in, in fact Alex does laugh, but he thinks that he might be a little bit hysterical as the pitiful, scratchy laughs are replaced by sobs clawing up his throat. 

When he sits on the bed and turns the gun over in his hands, Alex lets his eyes slip shut, lets the shock of sadness he always pushes back wash over him, lets himself drown in the hopeless, choking feeling, and sends himself back to the pool at Bryce's. The feeling's similar but this time, Alex knows he won't get out of this one alive.

The phone suddenly ringing almost makes Alex knock his teeth out with the gun, resting heavily on his lip. He frowns and flips it over, not bothering to check who is calling. It rings off and Alex hears his own tinny voice asking the caller to leave a message and doesn't expect them to. Except they do.

"Hey. Alex," Justin's voice sounds terrible, wrecked and broken, Alex looks over at the phone and furrows his brow, "Look, I know we're still not that good and all but-" Alex's frown deepens as Justin breaks off into violent, wheezing coughs but stays still, silently listening to the message. "-Sorry. I was hoping I could crash again? Just until I find a new place to live?" The phone is in one hand, the gun in the other, Justin gives a croaking laugh over the line, "I'll even stay in the garage like a hobo if you want." The words are light but so heart-breakingly hopeful.

Alex hovers his blue nailed, thumb over the green call button on his screen.

He puts the gun down and taps it.

&

Justin's given up on an answer but there's no real reason to stop talking so he carries on, even if his voice does really sound like shit, even to him. The coughing takes him by surprise and his throat feels even rawer than before. Justin pretends that the tears dripping from his eyes are from the pain of it, even if it is only partially true.

When Alex picks up the phone and cuts off the voicemail, Justin feels something burst in his chest, gratitude and hope spreading through his body, 

"Do you need a lift over?" Justin actually sobs in relief at the words and assures Alex that he'll walk over. He thinks he might need the time to let the tears dry. 

When Justin reaches the door of the Standall's white suburban, he notices that the cars are gone, Alex's parents and his brother's, he hopes that it might mean that he can sleep on the couch, with no adults in the house.

His hand is poised over the middle of the door when it's swung open and his metaphorical knight in shining armour gestures him in with his head. He hesitates on the threshold, 

"I really don't have to come in y'know-"

"You're not a hobo Justin, we've had this conversation. Just come in, man."

"Well technically-"

"You're homeless, not a hobo. Different." Justin feels like he should be offended at the frank way that Alex is discussing his lack of a safe home but it feels good just to talk to someone, casually. 

It looks like Alex is going to say something but his eyes- just for a second- flick to Justin's neck and the words don't come out, he just stands there, looking at Justin with soft, unreadable eyes. Justin doesn't say, doesn't do anything, the familiar feeling of numbness sitting on the back of his tongue. Wordlessly, he fills a glass of water, hands it to Justin and mutters something about following him upstairs. Every swallow is like trying to choke down broken glass but the short-lived cool relief is worth it each time.

&

Alex isn't going to pry, won't ask about the blooming, mottled marks on Justin's throat but he has a pretty clear idea of what's going on. He gets Justin some water and nods upstairs, walking off and hearing Justin's tentative footfalls behind him.

He knows his mother bought a plethora of different bruise and cut creams, antiseptics and anti-inflammatory ointments when he started getting into fights and hunts for them under the sink in the bathroom as Justin awkwardly goes into his bedroom. Alex finds the boy perched on the edge of his bed, trying to appear relaxed but looking like he's ready to run at anytime. 

"I don't know if you want them but I've got this shit, which might help, and I've got some painkillers, I just don't know if you'll be able to take them." Alex tries hard to not sound too judgemental, or even too concerned or eager to help, but he can't help trying to make this easier for Justin. 

Justin's still got that deer in the headlights look to him but he settles a little further back on the bed as Alex joins him, setting out the pots between them. 

"Now these have a specific order that makes them work better apparently, uh, like ingredients in a..." He's getting a raised eyebrow in response and he rolls his eyes, "Okay, yeah I don't know, I don't cook."

Justin looks a little bit shell shocked but makes for one of the pots, tentatively, "Oh no it's not- Let me, man." Justin shrugs and puts his hand back in his lap. Alex still doesn't really know what he's doing but Justin is so quiet and unresponsive that he just hopes that he's not freaking the guy out.

&

Alex gets one of the creams on his thumb and, trapped in his concentration, nudges Justin's chin up with the side of his finger. Justin complies easily and watches Alex through his lashes as he applies it. He's not expecting the sheer, feather lightness of the touch and he jumps as Alex ghosts the cream across one of the fingerprints on his throat. 

"Oh god! Are you okay?" The actual, genuine concern in Alex's voice almost shocks him more than the cream but then again, Alex has always been a genuine person since Justin has known him, whether hidden below or shown right on the surface of his persona. He hurries to calm the blonde,

"No, no dude you're good, cold 's all." Alex looks relieved and snorts through his nose, turning back to his task, Justin has to look up at the ceiling and breathe slowly, keeping his mind awfully blank to stave off the ridiculous thoughts in his head. Like 'Oh, this lighting makes him look pretty.' _Stupid_ , he thinks, _Foley, guys can't be pretty._

By cream number three, Justin's neck is a little bit numb and hurts nowhere near as badly. Alex is applying the last bit to the thumbprint at the base of his neck, his own thumb brushing over it, when his other, cool fingers come to rest on Justin's collar bone. 

Justin's breath catches in his throat.

Alex looks up and _God_ , Justin realises, _He's beautiful_. Alex is pale and sharp, cut from marble, life breathed into him by the gods in this dim bedroom lighting, and Justin can't take his eyes off of him. 

It's Justin who leans in first, but Alex meets him half way.

&

Justin tastes of tears and blood, danger and sorrow when Alex runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. He leaves his hand on his throat as they kiss, gasping when Justin's hand travels up his thigh. Justin's other hand mirrors it and when they reach Alex's hips, Justin all but lifts him onto his lap, pulling him by the belt loops. 

They have to stop for breath then and Justin searches Alex's face, eyes, looking for something that Alex can't identify.

"What?" He breathes the word against the boy's mouth,

"Is this- Can I- Is this okay?" Even as he says it, Justin's hands are moving, one up Alex's back, one across, securing Alex to him more tightly, his lip jumps in an approximation of a smile and Alex returns it. His hands fall back to rest lightly on Alex's waist when he uses Justin's shoulders to push him back on the bed. Alex moves forward until his hands bracket Justin's head, 

"Yes." The ghost of a word is enough to bring a little of Justin's confidence back into his eyes and he grabs Alex's belt loops again, pulling him sharply down onto Justin's own hips, then his head surges up, and then they're kissing again. Alex doesn't know why they haven't done this before. 

They're both breathing heavily when they hear the low rumble from Justin's stomach. Justin looks mortified while Alex just laughs, breathy, 

"Oh my god, I _felt_ that!" Justin huffs and Alex stands from where he is between Justin's legs, making grabby hands until Justin takes them and he can pull him upright. "Did you eat?" Justin's grimace is enough and Alex leads him downstairs.

Justin leans against the counter and watches Alex as he crouches in front of the fridge, hunting for something inside. He laughs as Alex topples back on his heels and bats away Alex's hand when the blonde swats at his face.

The saran-wrapped plate has a sandwich on it and when Justin looks inside he grins, 

"Fuck yes! Thanks man!" 

"See, what I did here is I put bread around the steak to slow you down so you won't actually choke when you eat it." Alex gives Justin a cheeky grin at the look Justin shoots him and hops up onto the kitchen counter, swinging his legs as Justin practically inhales the sandwich. He gets a pang of something in his chest as he thinks about the fact that the only reason that Justin is here right now, happy, warm and fed is because Alex answered one phone call. And yet Alex is only here, alive and kicking, because Justin made the call in the first place.

The world is weird like that.

&

Alex is still sat on the counter when Justin polishes off the last bite of sandwich and after he's put the plate in the dishwasher, he steps up to him. Justin doesn't know whether he's still allowed to kiss Alex, whether that was just a spur of the moment thing that they're never going to discuss again, but god does he hope it wasn't.

For a beat, Justin thinks that this is it, he's been fed, the cold has seeped out of his bones and his neck no longer feels like it's got a hand wrapped around it, so he'll be kicked out by Alex, on his own to do god-knows-what and sleep god-knows-where. But then, all of a sudden, Alex's arms are resting on his shoulders and he's hunching to Justin's level, who in turn stretches up, meeting in the middle again. 

When Alex pulls Justin closer, he allows himself to relax again, sliding his arms up and around Alex's back, letting him pull the boy off of the kitchen counter. Alex makes a noise between a laugh and a shriek that Justin swallows as Alex wraps his legs around his waist.

They're both laughing too hard for them to go anywhere like this but they just hover, snogging in the kitchen like two normal teenagers, for a good five minutes, before Justin's waning basketballer's strength has him putting Alex down on the kitchen tile and stepping back, just a fraction, as he scratches his neck and they catch their breaths. Alex presses light kisses to Justin's neck and if he closes his eyes, Justin can imagine that the dark marks there are Alex's handiwork.

They're awkward , blushing and stumbling as they make their way upstairs, their knuckles knocking as their arms swing. Alex points Justin in the direction of the bathroom even though they both know he already knows where it is, from that last fateful night at Alex's, but Justin thanks him anyway and grabs the couple of toiletries that he's got shoved in the bottom of his kit bag. 

&

Justin's in the bathroom and Alex has got too much time to _think_. Alex has always hated thinking too hard, unlocking all of the progressively dark parts of his mind as he ponders.

His first distraction is picking the nail polish off of his thumb. The blue was Hannah's, given by Mrs Baker when she noticed his black nails, telling him in her soft, sad voice, that a brighter colour would look so much happier on him. He hadn't the heart to tell her that that wasn't entirely the point and had become rather attached to the shade.

His second source of entertainment is his newly broken- and replaced- low E on the guitar, the tough wire refusing to be wrapped around the tuning peg and he spends a long while wrestling with the metal. He succeeds in getting it tuned all too quickly and hears the shower rush on, meaning that he's got at least twenty minutes alone with his thoughts before Justin returns.

Alex's head is between his legs as he valiantly tries to clear his head from any unwelcome thoughts, any thoughts at all really, when he finally gives in and reaches under the bed. After some blind groping around, Alex gets a hold on the cold hard metal he's looking for. It sends an unpleasant, cold, electric thrill through his arm, around his body, and he flicks it, unceremoniously, out from under the bed.

Ironically, his mind is completely blank as he stares at the gun, marooned in the middle of the laminate. It remains that way when the shower turns off, even until Justin comes into the room. 

Justin stops and stares and Alex wonders if this is it, when Justin realises that Alex is absolutely batshit and suicidal and leaves, only half dressed.

&

When Justin sees the gun on the floor, several thousand of his synapses light up at once and he is instantly on high alert. The thoughts splitting through his head range from a simple _what the fuck?_ to _no you_ don't _Standall._

"What're you doing with that then?" is what he goes with and Alex's eyes meet his own with a resigned look and he recognises the empty pain he's seen in his own eyes in the mirror, countless times. 

"It's not what- I wasn't- Well I Was-" Alex's stuttering justifications pull at Justin's heart and he just wanders over to sit by him on the bed. There's a moment when neither of them really know what to do, what to say, until Justin takes Alex's cold, cold hand into his own and offers him a small, unguarded smile. 

"But you didn't. It's not what you were thinking, it's what you did. And you put it down. So there." The smile he receives in return is worth anything anyone could ever give Justin and he pulls him to his shoulder, running his fingers through Alex's bleached hair. "Wanna put it away?" 

Alex seems to agree that the gun just lying in the middle of the floor is a little bit too much for them. They're just kids, they shouldn't have to deal with this kind of stuff. _Yet_ , Justin thinks, _here we are, holding guns, breaking hearts, killing each other._

He pulls Alex up by the hand and lets him lead him to the gun cabinet, holding the gun in one hand, Alex's fingers in the other. When they put it back and the cabinet is safely locked, Justin turns to Alex and watches the tears fall from his eyes, lets him cry into his shirt, tries to hold him together with only his love and his shaking arms. 

&

Alex can feel his legs shaking as Justin takes him upstairs but Justin doesn't say anything, doesn't mock him for being weak, doesn't try to make a joke about it, just allows Alex this lapse in courage and secures him more securely to his side, anchoring him. 

There's still a small part of his mind that tell him that this isn't real, that he's shot himself and in his dying moments he's concocted a fantasy, but he finds he honestly wouldn't mind if that truly was the case, because he feels safe in Justin's arms right now, and that is all that matters to him. They dress- or undress, in Justin's case- for bed and Alex's rolls his eyes at Justin's awkward shuffling as he decides where he should sleep. Alex stands from the bed and slips his arms round the poor boy, smiling as Justin shudders at the contact of Alex's icy fingertips on his shoulder blades. He allows himself a few moments to run his fingers over every dip and crease, mole and freckle on the smooth skin of Justin's back before he kisses him once more, deep and slow and hopeful. 

Justin responds in kind and Alex steps back a fraction, bringing Justin with him, moving until the back of his legs hit the bed and they both fall onto it in a giggling pile. Alex lets the leaden feeling through his veins lift into feathery lightness as Justin pecks ticklish kisses to his face, jaw, neck, pushing his lips against every spot of skin Alex has, devouring him whole. 

Alex takes Justin's lips with his own one more time before they swap giddy smiles and settle to sleep. Justin wraps his arms around Alex when he pushes his face into Justin's neck but groans and takes Alex's freezing hands, warming them in his own, between their bodies. Alex breathes a laugh into the crook of Justin's neck and closes his eyes. He's asleep before he even feels it coming. 

&

In the morning, Justin wakes the brave, brave boy in his arms with a kiss on the tip of his nose. He watches with a grin as Alex blinks himself awake. Justin thinks that, in this moment, Alex belongs somewhere other than earth, for he is angelic in this hazy morning glow. There's a rainbow captured in Alex's face, red in the flush appearing on the high points of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, orange in the shells of his ears when the sunlight glows through them. There's yellow in the touch of sallow skin under his indigo rings, under his blue eyes, lidded with eyelids threaded with violet veins. 

Justin hopes that there'll be a day that he can tell Alex all of this, and with the sideways tilt Alex has got to his lips, he's pretty sure he will. But for now, they just lie in silence, trading small smiles and morning eyes. At least until they realise that they are well past 'late' for school. Alex's cold hands come to his advantage when he uses them to force Justin out of the bed, icy fingers on his neck and chest. 

Justin'll get him back later at school though, blowing cold air-kisses onto the back of his neck all through second period, until Alex pulls him into the Janitor's closet in the corridor, an attempt at secrecy even though they both know full well that most of the students in the hall know _exactly_ what's happening. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was up to standard with some of the other talented writers for this fandom! Please feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, tell me what I can do to improve as well if you want!
> 
> On a side note: Did I proofread this? Yes. Are there still many, many errors? Probably...


End file.
